HalfBaked: A Different Kind of Wonderful
by Jilly-chan
Summary: AUcrossover - picks up one year after "Some Half-Baked Ideal Called Wonderful." Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.


Half-Baked: A Different Kind of Wonderful  
  
By Jillian Storm  
  
(Disclaimer: Exactly one year to the day that I last updated Some Half- Baked Ideal Called Wonderful, I once again found my muse for this mini- epic. The story picks up one year after the last chapter of Half-Baked, appropriately enough. I figured if Alias could do it, then I certainly could give the idea a go. Keisuke Yuuki, of Fushigi Yugi fame, is my narrator. This chapter will establish where Keisuke is, and the next chapters will expand to the rest of the characters again. The other characters are pilfered from various anime series, but I don't expect you to know them. In fact, I would sincerely hope that the characters stand on their own well enough in this little Alternate Universe. Reading Half- Baked is essential to understanding this story. I'm rather satisfied with the work I did in that story, so if you'd like to read it first then come back to this tale I'd be grateful. Characters, of course, do not belong to me. The lyrics are borrowed from Fisher, the best band that you're probably not listening to--but you'd like them if you did! Special thanks to Rissah for she-knows-what. Also thanks to Rachel-my epic muse. Welcome back! Enjoy.)  
  
***  
  
Philosophers had to convince the masses that their thoughts were brilliant enough to put them on salary and not expect to see any actual physical labor being performed for their work. I'm not really surprised at the lack of any Plato, Hume and Aristotle franchise surviving in today's society and the subsequent upscale of reality television. However, I have found the equivalent to a guaranteed, brilliant waste of time that inclines itself to deep, universally significant thought: the fast food drive through line.  
  
Having spent several quality minutes of my life in such situations, I have used the time to hit upon such sobering truths as "I am with me all the time and I can't really get away from myself if I tried" and created my own pantheon of socially relevant sub-deities. I had a close call with Fortune in high school. Clumsiness, Foot-in-Mouth and Absent-Minded Clutter revealed themselves as constants lurking about my life.  
  
Finally. A chance to order food.  
  
Strange Coincidence made a strong appearance in the near past. Déjà Vu most people are familiar with. As I flip through my wallet, I seem to remember spending almost all of my money here. That might explain why I'm mostly finding receipts. I start counting spare quarters dropped in the cup holder.  
  
Luck. Now Luck seems to have a mean-spirit to her, quite the tease Luck is. Luck and Fortune haven't the decency to commit themselves wholly to the side of good or ill. Different than the pinpointing methods of her sister, Fortune, however, Luck likes to put in the variable of chaos. So that no matter how hard you work, what good things you do, no matter what the fortune told to you in the past, she could twist and unsettle your present with the creativity of the unexpected.  
  
I'm a good six dollars shy of the total, and try grinning sheepishly up to the visor-covered eyes of the teenager at the window.  
  
"I think I'm a little short . . ." I start to explain, hearing myself squeak a little from the attempt to hide the embarrassment swelling up from my empty stomach.  
  
"How much?" The teenager shrugs, "The guy in front of you dropped his change and didn't bother to pick it up."  
  
Let it not be said that I don't take up Good Luck when she offers it to me. Let it not be said that Keisuke Yuuki will not crawl out the passenger side of his car to pick up spare bills and change dropped at the drive through window.  
  
I must have looked quite charming because the gal in the car behind me honked and yelled out that she'd pick up the rest of the bill if I'd just get along.  
  
The rest of the drive home from work, I consider the benefits of drive through philosophy. For one thing, you can stay in an air-conditioned car. And one isn't expected to wear those bed sheets 24/7.  
  
***  
  
We never play  
  
Kissy-face in front of strangers  
  
And we never run  
  
To each other in slow motion  
  
No rolling around on the shore with sand between our toes  
  
But I guess this is  
  
A different kind of wonderful  
  
***  
  
I'm still thinking about bed sheets while I'm trying to juggle an armful of take-out and fit the key into the side door of my house. Partially because I'm struck by how domestic my life seems since Goh and I decided to rent together. Live together. And by living together, sharing bed sheet. I'm struck by the thrill again, feeling slightly dizzy and dropping the keys- even though I've had a good four months to get used to the idea.  
  
Goh had finished up his last semester and we both decided that committing to our relationship sooner would give us a summer to enjoy before he started teaching classes. His first day of classes is tomorrow, and I'd braved the philosophically inclined territory in order to spare him from making dinner today. Goh's recent experience working at the Veteran Cosmic Rocker Diner gave his cooking a significant edge over my own. My night to cook was absolutely synonymous with eating out.  
  
I manage to hook one arm around all the food and swoop up the keys with the other hand. Goh's jeep is in the garage, and I'm not terribly surprised when he pulls open the door.  
  
"I thought I heard you out here." He smiles as if he always expects to see me bent over double fishing keys off the doormat. Some days, it's easy for me to reconcile the Justin Vaughn-Goh that I met at the Transylvanian Concubine nightclub and some days I'm baffled that he's even the same person. While he might sparingly put on his trendier clothes, and still fits them quite well, Goh had certainly started to look the part of a mathematics professor even in a simple dress shirt and jeans.  
  
"I picked up dinner." I display the rewards of my shameless looting and walk into the kitchen. Which is uncannily clean, so much so that I actually notice. I set the bags next to the empty, scrubbed out sink.  
  
"When you got back late, I'd wondered if you'd forgotten." Goh calls after me as I glance into the equally spotless living room then make my way down the hall in a daze to find that the towels in the bathroom are picked up and the door to our bedroom is closed.  
  
"Forgotten?" I repeat, opening the door just enough to see that while the bed was made mostly everything I'd left there was untouched. It brought a small measure of relief.  
  
"The freshmen that came to the math department open house are coming over tonight." Goh stands at my shoulder while I file through memories of our recent conversations. His eyes sparkle with immeasurable patience, as I'm still not recollecting the invitation to have hordes of new college students invade our humble house.  
  
"Well, at least I didn't have to help clean." My shrug a bit remorseful.  
  
"You'd have just distracted me," he leans in to kiss me briefly, "What did you get anyway? I'm hungry, and if I eat some now, I'll have more time to talk with the kids. Rather than chewing, that is."  
  
Trust Goh to make the best out of my mistakes.  
  
"Calling them kids already, old man?" I nudge his shoulder and fleetingly appreciate as I walk back to the kitchen that my feet aren't being tripped by various piles of laundry and piles of old magazines. My laundry. My magazines. Disappointing, really, to know that besides the occasional mountains of math books and scribbled sheets of equations, the house would normally look neat if it wasn't for me. "What are you now, twenty-seven?"  
  
"Twenty-six!" Goh protests, putting his index finger through the loop of my slacks--a peculiar quirk of his to feel secure.  
  
"Any cute girls in the class?"  
  
"In a math major?" He raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Come now, you were a cute one," I peer into the bags and hand him a sandwich, "How many bottomless stomachs are we going to be feeding tonight? I only have one more sandwich and a salad in here."  
  
"I had seven sign up." Goh takes a bite and chews thoughtfully, "I talked with a few of them at the open house. I haven't quite looked to match any of the names with my own students though."  
  
"Why not? I thought you would have by now?" I chuckle, "Avoiding things sounds more like me."  
  
"I'm nervous if I think about it too much," Goh leans against the counter and stares at the opposite wall. Still chewing, so that I can watch his jaw stretch and click. His ears wiggle a bit, just visible under the dark, black hair that he recently cut but still looks like an unruly, long mop. As long as I've known him, he's kept streaks of dark red color in the hair at his temples-less noticeable now, but he still keeps a traditional bit of color there to remind him of his past and how far he's come. The university, renown but struggling to maintain the stride of the new generations, actually welcomed and encouraged Goh's liberated fashions. Although, he still preferred to mute his unconventional characteristics.  
  
Speaking of which, "Are you're students expecting me?"  
  
***  
  
-we're in love in the real world  
  
It's not what I thought it would be but  
  
I can't let this go  
  
A different kind of happiness  
  
-doesn't get more real than this  
  
It's not what they said it would be but  
  
I can't let this go  
  
***  
  
The decision to live together seemed more natural than the nightly decision of which of us was too tired to drive back where. At the time, I was still in my old apartment with the ghost of my former roommate haunting me constantly. Hayate's belongings and "stuff" are in that apartment. Each month, Hayate's half of the rent reliably appears in the landlord's possession I still pay the difference, since it stores what Hayate left behind and I'm not quite sure what else to do with it. Goh says he understands.  
  
For his part, Goh had been offered the position at the university, he ended his job at the Veteran Cosmic Rocker, and living above the diner in his one room apartment didn't appeal as much as moving out.  
  
We broke the news to the group at the Four Doors first. It happened something like this:  
  
Duo Maxwell, a best friend since high school, had called us all to celebrate the accomplishment of a homemade CD recording of his local band, which consisted of himself, Kazuma our ex-waiter at the bar and Kazuma's girlfriend, Miho. Duo spent a good deal of the evening offering to buy drinks, which we politely declined after the first few rounds. He might have been making better money at the radio station than in the past, but the exasperated expression on his girlfriend's face clearly signified that Duo was not as well off as he felt that evening.  
  
Catherine Bloom met Duo the night that I first brought Goh to meet my friends. She had an interesting history as she'd mentioned spending her youth with a circus troop and still added "perfectly accurate knife throwing" as one of her resume skills. Catherine never specifically talked about her occupation, which was a bit of a mystery for the rest of us. The most that we'd pried from Duo, who seemed to know little more, was that she was quite talented at her job and worked with her younger brother. Duo apparently had met the younger brother seeing as Catherine's sibling was described as "just a touch on the way-out bizarre side." We felt more comfortable assuming she was some sort of artist and ignored the subtle hints Catherine dropped about her sharp-shooting precision. They made an interesting couple.  
  
Catherine had been attempting to pull Duo's chestnut brown, overly long braid of hair out of his latest alcoholic beverage while he chatted loudly with Himeno on his right when I'd stood, trying to get everyone's attention.  
  
"I just wanted to let you all know that Goh and I have found a house." I had paused, glancing down at Goh who looked as if he hadn't seen anything as funny as Catherine giving up and Duo examining the end of his braid in his glass as if it were some completely separate creature from himself. "We're going to be moving in together. I'll give you our new address."  
  
Around the table, reaction was minimal. Himeno might have heard bits and pieces of the announcement over the chatter of the bar and the jukebox that endlessly played country western, as she had smiled sweetly at me. That kid was always incredibly cute. Aya applauded briefly, and then asked Goh something about leather pants. Apparently, what seemed incredibly significant for me and definitely scary to announce wasn't quite the bolt of lightening on everyone else. Dorothy had gently attacked Duo with a spare straw, distracting him from the mysterious entity in his beer long enough to flash me his Cheshire grin, explaining it all in one sentence, "Well, it's about time."  
  
***  
  
I didn't see  
  
anything in you when we first met  
  
-when I believed I would fall in love at first sight  
  
Night after night we bared our souls over coffee  
  
Now I know I love you  
  
***  
  
I find myself extremely unhelpful when Goh has made up his mind to make something relatively impressive for dinner. Actually, the Shish Kabob he plans to feed the students is pretty simple for him since he has made most of it already, but he's obsessively pacing from the grill just outside the kitchen door and struggling to remember which of the seven layers is missing from his tortilla dip.  
  
I wonder how long it'll take the students to realize his vulnerabilities and use them to their advantage.  
  
"I could wear an apron. Would that help?" I rummage through the various drawers of the kitchen, again uncertain where to find much of anything since this room is primarily Goh's territory.  
  
"Onions!" He waves his hands excitedly, his voice peeks with relief. Which is a fleeting respite, as his next words are, " I forgot the watermelon!"  
  
"I can cut watermelon," I reach for him as he heads toward the screen door to check on the grill again, "Hey, I'm supposed to be the anxious one in this relationship." Holding him for a moment, I can smell the smoke in his hair where he'd leaned over the grill with his constant poking at the coals. A thoroughly different origin of the smoke smell from the one I associated with Goh when I first met him. Back when he was little more to me than a rather frighteningly attractive interruption to my chosen, cheerless solitude. The Transylvanian Concubine was his club of choice and the atmosphere there was dense enough that it made you pleasantly invisible while you were there but significantly marked your person long into the evening. We hardly went back there anymore, except to see Duo play sax for the Transylvanian house band occasionally.  
  
"You know," Goh says thoughtfully after taking a moment to pause, "It's too bad our yard isn't big enough for a dog." He slips past me and through the door while my brain struggles to keep up with what he's hinting.  
  
Whipping around, I push the door open and stare at him a bit breathless, "You mean . . . I mean . . . have you thought . . . we can get a pet?" I shake my head, "Maybe not a dog, but . . ."  
  
Goh's appraising the status of his grill, both hands on his hips, "Keep your eyes open at the store, and let me know if something interesting . . . something appropriate . . . shows up."  
  
I'm still standing in the doorway and rest my head against the frame, which up close I notice could use a recoat of paint, "I'm guessing that means that the (Flying Squirrels) aren't really an option then."  
  
He smiles, managing to look rather charming even though he's getting a bit of a nervous tick under his left eye from this particular anxiety which is not improving as the time until dinner dwindles, "We can talk about it."  
  
***  
  
A different kind of wonderful  
  
-we're in love in the real world  
  
It's not what I thought it would be but  
  
I can't let this go  
  
A different kind of blissfulness  
  
-we can't get more real than this  
  
It's not what they said it would be but  
  
I can't let it go  
  
***  
  
I must say that when it came to meeting with each others families that Goh demonstrated much more confidence than I did. Even though my family lives closer, we visited his first.  
  
Just after Christmas, when the pet store, The Tortoise and the Hare, where I work was winding down from the rush and when Goh was still on break from his graduate classes, we flew west. Believe it or not, I'd dated members of upscale families before and the Vaughn-Goh's were quite on par with the elite of society. Goh picked up his dark complexion from his father, a man with influence and money invested throughout most of the state. His softer features and pleasant temperament were obviously influenced by his mother, who remained quite docile even with Goh's three much younger brothers still living at home. By contrast, the brothers, Mannen, Hajime and Shin were fair colored like their mother and inherited the unbridled enthusiasm of their father.  
  
Goh, I found, is almost more of a favorite uncle or third parent to his brothers. Their inclination to rowdiness and athletics revealed talents that I didn't know Goh had and I inevitably found myself pulled into their competitive sport. While I bowed out of the impromptu wrestling matched, I had little excuse to decline a game of HORSE.  
  
Which I won.  
  
I don't think any of them expected that I had played basketball all through high school. That I'd often considered coaching. Now and again I like to impress people.  
  
Afterward, when we signed papers for the house, Goh insisted that we put up a net on our garage and quite a few evening were spent settling his challenges for a variety of rematches. He's very creative at fouling; however, I'm still undefeated.  
  
The acceptance from Goh's family reminded me of how it felt to visit other friends' homes while I was still in school. Particularly, since my own family is rather peculiar. I keep in touch with my kid sister Miaka well enough. She eloped with her long time boyfriend, Tamahome, who is a good eight years older than her. Now, they're expecting their first kid. I hadn't seen her in a while, so Goh and I arranged a Saturday this summer to meet up with Miaka and Tama when they were at Mom's. It seemed like a good idea since up to that point, Mom hadn't been able to find free time to visit me, even to see the new house.  
  
Mom has never moved. She started out in this house with some fellow with the last name Yuuki. From what Miaka and I have been able to surmise, Mom had probably been nineteen when she got married. A year later, Yuuki left her and ever since Mom's had a string of irregular boyfriends. Occasionally, she'd bring home repeat men that bore enough of a striking resemblance to one of us, that Miaka and I would place bets as to which of them might be our actual fathers. I had told Goh as much. He seemed inclined to apologize to me about it, but with a family like his, I don't think he knows how easily kids can adapt to unordinary, imperfect circumstances.  
  
The house loomed over us as we came up the sidewalk, the grass was burned brown and short, and the ineffective front gate was swinging off-balance from the fence. The house mostly looms because the woodwork of the small front porch is pulling free from the house and concrete steps are sinking in front--a spectacular effect, which only gets progressively worse. Mom always complained about never dating a carpenter or a handyman long enough to get a free repair. I didn't even know where to start helping her with it, even if I could.  
  
"Home." I glanced down at the cheap statue of a goose Miaka and I had chipped in together to buy for mom one Christmas. It stood neglected, naked and not a little bit dirty. We'd never bought any decorative clothes for it. At the same time, it reminded me of the warm joy my sister and I had felt giving it as a gift.  
  
I knocked, and we both heard the flurry of footsteps to the door. The faded wood pulled back so that only the screen door stood between us and my extremely pregnant sister.  
  
"Keisuke!" Miaka's eyes filled with tears, probably because I was misting up a little bit myself. Her brown hair was tied back into two ponytails, which still made her look very young-too young for a family. As an older brother, let me tell you, one does not spend much time imagining one's younger sister growing old enough to be a mother. Even if Miaka is twenty- something.  
  
"Silly girl," I tried hugging her, very conscious of the child she carried, "Where's the guy that did this to you?"  
  
"Tama's trying to fix the plumbing in the upstairs bath for Mom again," she glanced at Goh intentionally, then back at me, running her fingers along the edge of my shirt sleeve, "He's hopeless when it comes to any household stuff, so I don't know why she asks. And he's too nice to say he can't."  
  
"Where's Mom?" We walked into the living room, which is cluttered with layers of small rugs overlapping the carpet, too much furniture with mismatched blankets of orange, red, brown and green; also piles of pillows, newspapers, and knickknacks line the windowsill. The walls of dark brown wood are cluttered with family photos and various odd art work, mostly of wildlife. Miaka and I used to imagine Mom's first husband was a hunter. The rifle, which hung decoratively over all the other pictures, we imagined was his as well.  
  
"Upstairs, getting ready." Miaka paused, looking rather thoughtful, and then she sat down in a less than graceful flop, "Think I moved to fast answering the door." She grinned up then, looking a little pale, "Aren't you going to introduce me?"  
  
"Justin Vaughn-Goh," He held out his hand, but their handshake was as warm as an embrace. I could tell that Miaka had taken a shine to him. If I had any doubts, she put them to rest with her next comment,  
  
"Hot dog, Keisuke! He's really handsome!"  
  
"Geez, Miaka," I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling just a little proud though. In our less than friendly sibling moments, Miaka had predicted that I'd only find romance with a spiny wart hog. Of course, that was after I had chased her around the house in a black robe and a dictionary pretending to cast spells on her.  
  
"How long have you been together?" Miaka asked, her eagerness and accepting nature just another family trait I'd suppose, "Keisuke's kept rather secretive about you. But all he does is talk about you!"  
  
"I wanted you to meet him for yourself," I interrupted, "It simply took a while to find time that worked out for you . . . and Mom." I could feel Goh latching onto the belt-loop of my jeans, trying to connect with me now while standing in the middle of the house that held all of my past.  
  
Of course, that was when Mom came down the stairs. Her hair was still short with only a suggestion of gray in the sandy-brown. Miaka used to tease that I always got my hair cut like Mom's. Her blue eyes were different though, and I saw her look up from noticing they way that Goh and I were connected. "Keisuke." She sounded tired.  
  
"Mom," I walked over to her and wrapped her in my arms. She smelled fresh like soap and toothpaste. "You look really nice tonight." Holding her at arms length, I saw she hadn't lost her figure at all as the sweater and skirt she wore complimented it. In fact, growing up she'd often scolded Miaka's excessive eating habits. My sister's pregnancy only accentuated Mom's thinness.  
  
"Thank you." Her lips smiled.  
  
"Are you feeling alright?" I kept a hand on her shoulder, unable to remember the last time I'd seen her for any length of time and if she'd looked so pale then, "Maybe we shouldn't go out for dinner and get pizza or something. Come, I really want you to meet Goh."  
  
I turned, for a moment sharing a brief smile with Goh who stood next to Miaka, when I felt Mom's hand catch in my elbow.  
  
"Keisuke," She started, softly but determined. "Something came up tonight, and I'm going out. You can visit here with Tamahome and Miaka if you'd like, but I won't be back until very late."  
  
I paused, studying her face and how time had started to pull her lips into a steady frown, "Sure. I'm sorry you have to leave."  
  
"I know you are." Her voice carried a little stronger, so that Goh could hear. "Pleased to meet you." She nodded once, her eyes distracted by some spot on the rug nearest the door.  
  
"Maybe we could come at a better time?" I offered.  
  
Just then someone knocked, and it wasn't Tamahome pounding on the bathroom plumbing. Miaka made to stand in an effort to get the door, Goh helping her balance when she started to loose her footing. Closest to the door, I opened it to find a fellow I'd never seen before--another moment of Déjà Vu reflective of my childhood.  
  
"Hello son, is the lady of the house ready?" His words echoed with precise familiarity.  
  
"Yeah," I stepped back, seeing that Mom already had picked up her purse but the newcomer stepped in as if he were a regular guest.  
  
"Well, I know that ray of sunshine," He winked at Miaka who smiled back, "Know what sort of biscuit you're baking yet?"  
  
"I'm having a boy." Miaka's smile widened.  
  
"Wow." I was excited, "You didn't tell me."  
  
"You're not the only one who had special news for tonight," she pouted pleasantly and not a little proudly.  
  
"And you must be the oldest," he pumped my hand, "Heard from your mom that you're dating that Sylvia Noventa, Girl Politician."  
  
How old was that news? I shook my head, "No, Sylvia and I haven't been seeing each other in a while." I could feel Goh standing at my side, as I turned to Mom, "I did say that Goh and I are together, right?"  
  
Of course, no sooner had I said the words than the room seemed tense and silent, save for the ringing clank of a wrench whacking a useless pipe. Now, practically, no more than a second had probably passed before we started talking and moving again, but the second was long enough for me to realize that I had taken a lot for granted in the past year.  
  
Mom shot me a dark look, not unlike the glares I fell under when I had severely disappointed her as if she were about to cry. She did however, manage to not-cry and leave and take her new boyfriend with her before I had a chance to calculate the impact of what I had said let alone process the snatches of dialogue that followed.  
  
"Well, I . . ." I stared at the closed door for a moment, catching a last glance from my mother as she stared back at the house before getting into the car, "I'm sorry that you won't get to see Mom tonight. I thought. Maybe we could arrange to do this some other . . ."  
  
But Goh had slipped his hand around mine and squeezed rather fiercely, "It's alright, Keisuke."  
  
"Sounds like Tama's given up on the plumbing." Miaka said, sounding rather anxious, from where she had sat back down. "We could go make him get pizza and play cards afterward or something. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."  
  
We did exactly that. Later, when Miaka gave me a half-hour rundown on the phone of what she thought about my boyfriend, she summarized, "I like him, Keisuke. He's really sweet and gentle with you, but seemed a touch protective." Then after a brief laugh, "Sounds like we've got similar taste in guys."  
  
***  
  
I never saw the fireworks  
  
-the stars didn't fall from the sky  
  
But this is more beautiful than a quick flash  
  
***  
  
Eventually, Goh doesn't need my help and I wander around the house appreciating the new cleanliness. Since Hayate seems to have abandoned all of his art, I brought with me the black and white photographs he'd taken of our friends. They once again line the hallway as I walk back to the spare bedroom that we'd turned into an office.  
  
Goh insists that we were going to share every room of the house. Even thought technically I don't need the office nor do I want the kitchen. After setting up the computer, desk and filing cabinets, Goh has the perfect place to plan his lessons, grade papers and study for his own master's program. The wood panel walls in this room remind me of home for a moment, and in the opposite corner from the computer is a small basketball hoop. I practice shooting with foam balls for a while. For a while, I sit in the computer chair and try to see if I can make myself too dizzy to make the shot.  
  
The first one I miss is when Goh pokes his head in the door. I can see where the roots of his hair are a little sweaty from hovering over the grill.  
  
"Are we ready?"  
  
"If you're ready," Goh takes my hand as we walked back to the kitchen and he adds, rather seriously, "I seem to be ready for most anything if I've got you with me."  
  
***  
  
I never saw a rainbow  
  
-the stars didn't fall from the sky  
  
But this is more meaningful than a quick flash  
  
***  
  
(I want to finish this story-I imagine, however, that it will progress very slowly. Thank you, Jillian.) 


End file.
